A/N: Well, I'm not too sure how this turned out…I should have been working on the next chapter of "Out of Defeat", but instead I wrote a very short TezukaFuji angstish fic to continue my TezukaFuji oneshot series. It's a companion piece to "One Old Memory" and "Two First Kisses". It is set after them chronologically (although you don't need to read them to understand this), and also takes place in Tezuka and Fuji's second year. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Please let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis.
"Again," Fuji calls, after executing a perfect Tsubame Gaeshi.
"Practice starts soon," Tezuka reminds him, hitting him another ball. Fuji does a drop shot, for no real reason, Tezuka assumes, other than to be unpredictable. Tezuka has been helping him with his new "Triple Counters", after all.
"It's almost perfect," Fuji says, putting his racket over his shoulder and walking to Tezuka's side of the court. "Thank you so much for practicing with me."
Tezuka shrugs. Fuji knows that he always comes to morning practice early.
"You worked hard," he says. Fuji expending effort on anything is an unusual sight. It is part of his mystique—the tennis genius who always smiles, who never shows his true face.
Fuji laughs, but it lacks its usual warmth.
"It's just a game to me," he says. "For fun. It's not serious. There's nothing serious in the world." But his eyes open as he says this. "Maybe I can't ever be serious." Suddenly, he hurls his racket across the court. He turns on the basket of tennis balls and kicks it over.
"Aren't you going to be angry with me?" he demands. "For wasting your time, and fooling around, and being careless with tennis equipment? Be angry with me, Tezuka!"
"I'm not," Tezuka says, stooping to pick up the scattered balls. His heart feels heavy. He wants to pull Fuji into his arms, but he knows it isn't time, not yet.
"Yuuta's leaving!" Fuji whispers. "It doesn't matter whether I try or not, he hates to be around me. I can protect him from everything, but not from myself."
"He wants to make his own way," Tezuka says, putting a ball in the basket. "He'll find his own style of tennis."
"I thought about quitting," Fuji's voice is calmer now. "I wondered if I quit tennis, would Yuuta feel the same?"
"You can quit." But Tezuka feels empty at the prospect, at losing Fuji's constant smiling presence, and the occasional light touch on his elbow during practice. "I would miss you."
And now, Fuji stumbles to him, trembling uncontrollably. Tezuka wraps his arms around him, and lets Fuji bury his face in his shirt. He lifts a hand to stroke the honey-brown hair. Fuji's skin feels cold to the touch.
"I wish I could be like you, Tezuka," Fuji murmurs against his chest. "I wish I wasn't like this."
"I don't," Tezuka says. "Don't change."
He pulls his jacket over the other boy's shoulders. After a minute, Fuji stops shivering.
"That's right," he says. "You can be serious enough for both of us." He smiles—it's smaller than usual, but genuine.
Tezuka closes his eyes, feeling Fuji's heartbeat against his chest. He hopes that Fuji will not continue to be unhappy, that Yuuta's transfer will be for the best.
"When we're like this, I can be a little serious too," Fuji says after a minute. "I like playing tennis with you. Let's go to Nationals."
"Of course."
A/N: Please review!